


The Importance of a Name

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [14]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Demigirl, Dwarf Noble Origin, F/F, Gen, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Character, Unnamed Background Character Deaths, also supportive people tho, deadnaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwinna Aeducan is quite fond of her name; she picked it herself. of course, most people don't <i>know</i> it's her name, but those that do make it all easier to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of a Name

**Author's Note:**

> Dwinna's a trans woman (she/her), and Ketkoni's a demigirl (she/her or they/them, some days both, sometimes one in particular.)

_"...my Lord Herunn―" Dwinna._

_"...if Prince Trian and Lord Herunn―" Dwinna "―would agree to support the expedition..."_

_"...no, I quite agree, the Aeducans are an impressive family. Take Lord Herunn, for example―" Dwinna!_

"Dwinna?"

Gorim stood leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. Dwinna waved a hand at him. "Good morning, Gorim," she said.

"Good morning, my lady," he said, smiling. "Were you planning on meeting with your brother any time soon, or should I tell him you're busy?"

"Oh, Stone," Dwinna said, jumping to her feet, "I completely forgot, thank you, Gorim."

Gorim chuckled as she grabbed her sword and shield, hoisting them onto her back as she ran for the door. "Your memory is excellent, as always."

"Oh, shush, you," she huffed, as they sped down the hall, "my memory's fine."

"You're right," Gorim said, "you never seem to forget when it's time for a Proving." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he raised his eyebrows innocently. "Am I wrong?"

"Hm," she said, slowing as they reached the door to Bhelen's room. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Then I supposed I will just have to leave you in peace, my l―" He paused as the door to Bhelen's room opened, and a woman stepped out, followed by Bhelen. "My lords," Gorim said, bowing to Dwinna and Bhelen respectively before turning to go, shooting Dwinna an apologetic face as he went.

"I had begun to think you weren't coming," Bhelen said, ushering Dwinna inside as the other woman walked away. He closed the door behind them, then turned to face her. "Dwinna," he said, smiling, "how are you this fine morning?"

She shrugged. "I've been better. Trian's in one of his _moods,_ he's been rampaging up and down the merchant quarter all morning. I managed to escape while he was grilling some poor sod, but I have had enough of him to last all _week."_

"Ah," Bhelen said, "well, that's our dear brother for you." He coughed uncomfortably.

Dwinna frowned. "What?"

"What?"

"What aren't you telling me?" she said, crossing her arms.

"I, uh... may have slightly mislead you when asking you to meet me here." He ran a hand over his beard.

Dwinna stared at him, comprehension dawning. "No. You didn't."

He made a sheepish face. "Sorry."

"Bhelen! Ancestors' sake, you don't agree to _talk to him_ when he's like this, have you no sense of self-preservation?" she demanded.

The door slammed open. "Bhelen!"

"That's why I agreed," Bhelen hissed. "Self-preservation." Trian strode inside, stopping on the steps. "Atrast vala, big brother!" Bhelen said with faux cheerfulness as he moved to greet him.

Trian ignored him, eyes scanning the room. His gaze fell on Dwinna, and his mouth tightened. "Good, you're both here. Stop skulking in the corner and come join us, Herunn."

_Dwinna._ She walked over to them, hands clenched.

"And were you planning on shaving any time soon, or are you finally growing your beard back out? Your face is a scraggly mess."

"Oh, leave... him... be," Bhelen said, as Dwinna's face flushed with anger, "why don't we just get down to it, yeah?"

"Fine," Trian said, pulling out a chair before and sitting down at a small table.

Dwinna sighed.  _This should be fun._

* * *

Later that evening, Dwinna set aside her traditional sword and metal targe in favour of a pair of daggers she tucked under a large dark cloak. As she ran a hand over her newly shaven chin, there was a knock at the door.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Gorim," came the muffled reply. The door handle turned, and clicked against the lock. "Ah. You're going out, I take it?"

Dwinna hurried over to unlock the door, waving him inside as soon as it was open. "Yes, I am," she said, locking the door behind him.

"Were you going to tell me?" he asked, giving her a reproachful look.

"I don't have to tell you every time I leave the palace," she retorted.

"No, you don't _have_ to, my lady, I know. But how am I supposed to protect you if I don't know where you are?"

"I'll manage just fine for one night." She pinned her cloak in place, avoiding his gaze.

"Hm. At the very least, it would help me to cover for you," Gorim said. "Dwinna."

She looked up, folded her arms. "Gorim."

He snorted. "You do love being difficult."

"I thought that was your job," she said, smiling.

"If by that you mean protecting bronto-headed royalty," he said airily, "then yes, that's practically my job description."

Dwinna walked to the door, then paused, hand on the lock. "I'll be down in the commons, just... please, don't follow me. I want to be inconspicuous."

"I know," he said, with a sympathetic smile. "I will respect your wishes, my lady," he said, "but if you don't return before midnight..."

"You have my permission to come find me."

"Thank you, my lady."

Dwinna unlocked and opened the door, peering out into the hall. Empty. "Goodnight, Gorim," she murmured, before hurrying down the empty corridor.

"Goodnight."

When she had made it out of the palace, she pulled her hood over her head, and made her way down to Tapsters, where she sat unnoticed in the corner with a pint, watching commoners chatter among themselves. No one ever recognized her when she came out, even those who came close enough to see under her hood. The nobles that did pass through Tapster's weren't looking for her there, and anyone else wasn't looking to find the middle Aeducan child drinking alone dressed in a shabby cloak. There was something to be said for wilful blindness.

She left earlier than usual, slipping out before an argument between patrons turned into a barfight. As she stepped out onto the torch-lit stone, however, something felt off. The commons was empty, surprisingly so for so early in the evening. She walked down the steps, drawing her dagger under her cloak. Maybe she was just on edge because she was hoping not to be seen. Maybe―

A pair of hands grabbed her from behind, yanking her against the wall. _No such luck._ She stabbed backwards, but a hand grabbed hers in a vice grip, squeezing until she was forced to drop the dagger. "Hey!" a voice called, "you looking for me?" The arms around Dwinna slackened momentarily, and she ripped herself free, pulling her other dagger from its sheath as she whirled around, taking in the scene.

Feet away, a dwarf with violently purple hair was taking on two others in similar outfits to the Dwinna's attacker. Who, speaking of, was now returning for her, holding a mace above his head. _Great._ She held her dagger in front of her, desperately missing her sword and shield. The dwarf swung down his mace, and she sidestepped him, giving him a kick to the side that sent him staggering away.

Behind her, there was a rattling clang, and she glanced over in time to see one of the other dwarves go down, his sword clattering across the pavement.

"Thank the Ancestors," Dwinna muttered, and she threw herself at the sword as the other came back, barely bringing it up in time to bar the falling mace, arms shuddering with the impact. She rolled to her feet, turning to face him, when he gave a gurgling cry, and she saw the purple-haired dwarf behind him. They yanked their dagger out of his back, and he toppled to the ground. Dwinna stared, panting.  _By all the Paragons, did they just_ ―

"Hey, you all right?" The dwarf kicked Dwinna's other dagger across the pavement to her. "You dropped this."

Dwinna crouched to pick it up, and nodded, wiping it off, hoping she wouldn't be expected to speak. She glanced at the sword she'd taken from the dead dwarf, then shrugged, and began wiping it off as well. _Could be useful to have one that's not recognizably Aeuducan._

"Didn't expect to see anyone else down here," they said, pushing their hair out of their eyes. They gave her a sideways glance, and Dwinna noticed a casteless brand zigzagging across their face where their hair had been. "You're not with them, are you?" they asked.

Dwinna shook her head.

"Oh good. Hate to have to kill you," they said, grinning. "I'm Ketkoni. What's your name?"

"Dwinna," she mumbled.

"That's a pretty name."

"Oh." Dwinna blinked. "Uh, thank you."

"Paragons, aren't we precious," Ketkoni said, smirking. "You take a compliment like a startled deer."

Dwinna narrowed her eyes. "And you give them with backhand."

"Ooh!" Ketkoni laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You just seemed so surprised. I wasn't poking fun at you," they said gently, "it really is a lovely name."

"Hm." Dwinna stared at them, unsure of whether to to take them at face value. They _seemed_ sincere, but even with her face in shadow Dwinna was sure the deepness of her voice had betrayed her. And regardless, why would a Carta assassin be so kind to a perfect stranger?

"I gotta get going," Ketkoni said, "this... errand took longer than I thought. But, hey, if you're ever around, say hi, let me make it up to you somehow," they said, smiling. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but unless you're coming into Dust Town..." They shrugged, then stooped to pull a dagger out of the body at their feet, replacing it in its battered sheath. "Catch you later, maybe," they said, blowing a kiss as they went.

Dwinna watched them walk away, her mouth slightly open. _Damn. What even..._ Then, she glanced down, and remembered she was still surrounded by bodies. _Right. You can ogle gorgeous dwarves some time when you're_ not _mixed up in Carta assassinations._ As she slipped away, she cast one last glance behind her. _I sure hope I see you later._


End file.
